


'Fenris' to his Master

by TCRegan



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-17
Updated: 2014-01-17
Packaged: 2018-01-09 01:10:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1139662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TCRegan/pseuds/TCRegan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"You weren't always this way, Fenris. Once upon a time you had affection for me. I remember it fondly."</i>
</p>
<p>Short series of Fenris's life as Danarius's favorite slave. Underage warning for implied child abuse and slavery theme. (Nothing graphic)</p>
            </blockquote>





	'Fenris' to his Master

"Fenris!"

Leto – no, Fenris – looked up from the flower he'd been examining. His master's garden was always a source of fascination for him with the different plants and especially the bugs. Earlier he'd lifted a rock and found four different ones curled up. His sister Varania, three years older than him, would never understand his interest. So he ate one, just to watch her squirm in disgust. But the day was fading into night and his master was calling him.

'Fenris' he called him. Little wolf. Not Leto. Leto was for Varania, for his mother. For the other slaves in Danarius's estate. For the plump woman who cooked meals to yell at him when he got underfoot or switched out one of her ingredients for dirt. Fenris was for him and for his master. He raced inside and stopped with pinpoint precision right in front of Danarius, filthy, sweaty, and out of breath. Danarius looked down at him with a critical eye, and smiled serenely. Fenris remembered too late that he should drop his eyes in front of his master and did so, but Danarius didn't seem to care.

He was becoming a good slave. He would be better than his mother. Better than his sister. And already Danarius was favoring him. A fact which Fernis was extremely proud of, a fact which he lauded over Varania's head, though his six year old mind could hardly grasp the concept of gloating. His mother asked him – quietly and behind closed doors – to not talk about his sessions with Danarius. Fenris simply believed she was jealous, otherwise why else would she cry?

Danarius nodded. "Good. You are quick. Have you been practicing your dancing?"

Fenris nodded wildly. "Yes, Master," he said.

"Show me the last move you have learned."

Fenris immediately started the routine he'd been learning from the dark Antivan stranger. He couldn't remember the man's name, so he simply called him 'Ant' and the man did not seem to mind. It wasn't like any dance that Fenris had ever seen before. There were less pirouettes and more lunging. Less waving of his arms and more quick thrusts. He ended with a summersault and sweep kick, his muscles doing all the work as he put them through their paces. He looked up again, sitting on the floor, hands behind him in the thick plush carpet, and he grinned, wriggling in happiness.

Danarius didn't tell him to drop his eyes the way he would if Varania had done it. Instead, he smiled again and crooked a finger. "Good, Fenris. My little wolf is becoming quite the hunter. Come. You need a bath and we'll tell you a story."

Fenris scrambled to his feet and gripped Danarius's hand, skipping a little as his master led him away from the hall, away from the slaver's quarters. Though he missed the nights in which he curled up between Varania and his mother on their bed, he much preferred his master's. After a thorough wash and a cup of hot cocoa – a rare treat indeed – he lay in the crook of Danarius' shoulder, eyes closed, listening to him spin tale after tale of the magisters, of the Imperium when it was great. He fell asleep as Danarius stroked his hair, whispering, "My little wolf…"

-

Six years he trained since that day. There were precious few moments to spend in the garden, smelling flowers and poking at bugs. The Antivan man was a permanent fixture most days, telling him what to eat, what to drink, and how to move. Fenris was given his very own practice sword, which he immediately showed Varania and gloated about. There were other boys of course, other slaves he'd seen around the mansion. Some older, some younger. He was put to sparring against them. The older ones lacked his quickness and depended on brute strength while the younger ones lacked his finesse and grace. He'd been training for this nearly his whole life, and Danarius meant to see it come to fruition.

Fenris had never seen so many people gathered in one place. Danarius's courtyard was large, but the grouping of magisters and their slaves made it seem half the size. His mother was adjusting the black leather collar around his neck. Fenris liked this one. A silver pendant of a wolf hung from it, the metal cool against his bare chest. He shifted uncomfortably as she brushed back his hair, clad only in a pair of slim-fitting black leggings. His practice sword had been taken away and he felt naked without it.

"Be a good boy," his mother said, tears in her eyes. "And remember I love you, Leto."

He hated that name. But he would not ask her to call him Fenris. That was for Danarius and Danarius alone. He shrugged, embarrassed.

"I love you too, Mother."

He understood what he had to do. Defeat the others, win the prize. Danarius explained it to him, and he wanted to win for his master. His mother and sister looked so unhappy. He believed they were jealous of his chance to even participate. Though he didn't know much about lyrium, he knew the tattoos would provide him extra powers. He would be able to keep his master safe from others, would be able to keep his sister and mother safe.

_Like a good pet wolf,_ Danarius had said.

Fenris stepped out into the courtyard after allowing both his mother and sister to hug him, and stood in front of Danarius, then knelt. He remembered not to look up.

"Fenris."

"Yes, Master?"

"You will win for me today, yes?"

"Yes, Master."

"Rise."

Fenris stood in one swift, graceful movement. The Antivan man handed him a two-handed blade. It glistened in the noonday sun. Lighter than he was used to, it would be easy to swing it with precision and strength. He stepped back and executed a few careful, slow, practice swings.

"Fenris, look at me."

Fenris raised his eyes, and Danarius smiled.

"My little wolf. Show them what sharp teeth you have."

Fenris bowed. "Yes, Master."

-

Pain. Pain unlike any other he'd ever felt. He prayed to the Maker for death. Was this what he wanted? Was this what he'd killed the other boys for? The magisters strapped him to a table to keep him from flailing. Danarius stood next to him, arms crossed, watching. Fenris looked up at him, eyes glazing over in agony.

"M-Master?" he whispered, and screamed again as the needles penetrated his skin.

Danarius sneered. "I will come for him after it is done. His screaming is giving me a headache."

Fenris tried to reach out, but his hands were bound. He watched as Danarius left the room, then closed his eyes. Another bite of a needle, another injection of lyrium. He screamed again, throat raw, mouth dry. It became too much, and he passed out one last time.

**Author's Note:**

> For a slave who can't read, Fenris knows a lot about a lot of things. The Qun, the Imperium, and history in general. I worked off a headcanon that Danarius was quite fond of him and would read him stories of history, how Tevinter was once a great empire and because of that, Fenris looked at him as more like a father than a master, at least until he received his markings. Hope you enjoyed. :)


End file.
